


Of All Things I've Seen and Unseen

by erinn_bedford



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Tumblr Prompts, is it really fluff if one of them is dying of gunshot wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 22:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18303353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinn_bedford/pseuds/erinn_bedford
Summary: Rosaline spins, following Mercutio’s voice, and she can see him, signaling toward a house and then she sees Juliet, and Romeo, and Livia with Benvolio’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, and it’s six.One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.Or, the zombie apocalypse, a gunshot wound, and way to many emotions for a single couch.





	Of All Things I've Seen and Unseen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenofchildren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofchildren/gifts).



> Based on the tumblr prompt from the wonderful [Queenofchildren!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofchildren/pseuds/queenofchildren)Thank you so much for the prompt! It was so much fun!
> 
> “No, don’t cry, I hate it when you cry” and “Oh god, you’re bleeding”

There’s too many of them to count.

When it was just the three of them, her, Livia, and Juliet, it was easy. When all hell would break loose, Rosaline could could the two of them and herself as they were running, a mental list keeping them together.

But now there’s six. Somehow the Montague boys (Mercutio counts okay) had joined their tiny troop of survivors, so now Rosaline not only has to count more heads to make sure everyone is safe and accounted for, but she also has to deal with the Montague’s on top of the zombie apocalypse.

They’re looting a convince store for any supplies they can when everything goes to shit. And of course the undead are inside the store, and of course the second everyone is out, they scatter, and then the screams start.

And then the gun shots.

As far a Rosaline can tell, there’s a heirarchy to what’s left of the world. There’s the zombies, the people trying to survive, and the people who see it as an opportunity to be as violent as they want, against both the living and the reliving.

This specific instance seems to be a mix of all three.

She can’t count. All she can see is the flash of Juliet’s hair and Livia cursing and it’s dark. Too dark for her to know the difference between zombies and people and she’s just running, but she can’t count.

Rosaline liked when there was three. Three is easy to count. Three is easy to keep together. But the Montague’s had more guns and ammo and food, and an actual plan on how to get out of Verona. And if there’s anything Rosaline learned from watching too many movies, it’s you never split up.

“Capulet!”

Rosaline spins, following Mercutio’s voice, and she can see him, signaling toward a house and then she sees Juliet, and Romeo, and Livia with Benvolio’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, and it’s six.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

She sprints toward them, counting, running over their faces in her head.

“Did you check inside?” She asks, out of breath as Mercutio and locks the door and goes to grab some chairs to secure it

“I did a perimeter check, and Romeo and Juliet are doing the inside of the house now.” Mercutio tries the light switch, and miraculously some of the lights flicker to life.

“Clear!” Romeo yells from somewhere inside of the house, and Mercutio jams the chair under the door before collapsing into it.

Rosaline relaxes slightly, but her hands are still shaking, and she’s still counting in her head, her eyes flitting around the each person, even more relief settling n her bones once Romeo and Juliet wander back into the living room.

Benvolio still resting most of his weight on Livia, and she moves them toward the couch, gingerly sitting him down.

“What’s wrong?” Juliet says, spying them. Everyone centers around the couch, their eyes scanning over the two of them.

“I fell on the street. Pretty sure I ran into a branch. Livia was kind enough to save my life.” Benvolio shoots them all one of his signature smiles, and groans slightly in pain when he tries to get more comfortable.

Rosaline finishes her scan of Livia and moves her eyes to the Montague.

Her eyes travel down his face, over his chest, each arm -

“Like something you see, Capulet?” he says, eyes full of mischief. He’s insufferable, always joking when they should be serious, picking on her nerves relentlessly because they always get stuck together for patrol, making decisions based on heroics rather than survival at times.

“No.” Rosaline shoots him a glare but keeps up her scan, making sure that branch he ran into didn’t do more damage than a bruise. She’s dragging her eyes down his left arm when he coughs, and then groans, and she suddenly feels like something might actually be wrong.

He shifts again, and Rosaline glances at his chest when she sees it. The tiniest bit of red peaking through the gray of his sweatshirt.

“Oh god,” She says, her hands scrambling to tear his shirt up. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” His eyes brows knot together in confusion, and then Livia is on the ground next to her, her hands already ripping through her first aide kit. “I’m not bleeding. I would know if I was bleeding.”

Mercutio and Romeo are lifting his arms and pulling his shirt over his head and Juliet is grabbing hot water, and Benvolio is still protesting, until Livia’s hands brush around the area, and he just, sways.

“Get him on the kitchen table.” Livia orders, her two years of training kicking in.

The boys listen, and Juliet comes back in with towels and water, and Rosaline is on wash duty, and the more they move, the less Benvolio Benvolio becomes.

“I think he was shot.” Livia says. She’s pulling various things out of her bag, and then lifting him slightly to see if there’s an exit wound.

“I would know if I was shot.” Benvolio says weakly, trying to sit himself up before Romeo shoves his shoulder back down on the table.

“Not if the shock kicked in first.” Livia dunks her hands in the water before turning to him. “You need to stay as still as possible okay.”

Benvolio stares at her a moment longer than needed before nodding and dropping himself back down to the table.

Everyone who is not operating on Benvolio is grabbing what they can to secure the doors and windows, making the house as safe as they can.

Livia makes quick work of pulling and sewing and wrapping, and by the time she’s done, Benvolio is pale and too weak to move by himself, but he’s alive. For now.

“I don’t think it’s safe to do a blood transfusion here, and I don’t have the tools I need to do one.” She worries her lip through her teeth and cracks her knuckles. “We need him to make it through the night. Hopefully this place is safe enough that he has time to get some strength back.”

Romeo wraps his arm around her shoulder. “Liv. You did good. You did great. You need to sleep now. We all do.”

Rosaline counts everyone off as they nod, the toll of the last few hours on their faces.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Her eyes fall to the couch where Benvolio is propped up by pillows, looking to pale and too close to death for her liking. As if he can tell everyone’s looking at him, he slides his eyes open, and forces a smile onto his face.

Six.

xXx

It’s technically Mercutio’s turn to be on watch, but she can’t sleep, and there’s no point to him staying up as well. Rosaline sneaks her way into what used to be the living room, Benvolio sprawled out on the largest couch, his head resting in Mercutio’s lap as Mercutio plays on a nitendo Switch.

“I thought the whole zombie apocalypse thing would garner necessities only,” Rosaline says, tucking herself in the smaller single person chair, Mercutio’s eyes sliding from his game to Rosaline’s face.

“The switch is a necessity. You don’t want to see me when I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Ah.” Rosaline pulls her knees up to her chin and watches them for a moment, Benvolio breathing lightly, covered in almost all the blankets they could find around the house.

“What are you doing up?” Mercutio asks once he’s finished his game.

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I would relieve you of your duty so you could.”

Mercutio watches her closely and usually she would stare right back, angry and defiant, but today took something out of her. This is the first time any of them have gotten seriously hurt. Benvolio could die. Or be too weak to move forward.

Or be even more susceptible to the infection and she knows they are literally fighting for their lives through the armies of the undead, but she hadn’t thought of the prospect of actually loosing someone.

“If you’re sure.” Mercutio finally says, stretching from his position. Benvolio stirs, and his eyes snap open.

“Woah.” Mercutio grabs him before he sits up, stopping him from jumping. “Hey, we’re okay Ben. Ros and I are just switching positions.” Mercutio signals her over and tells her to slip into his vacated seat, gently moving Benvolio’s head onto her lap.

“Ros?” Benvolio’s eyes roll up so he can look at her, and there’s the smallest of smiles on his face. “She has a nicer lap than you.” He says shooting a look toward Mercutio.

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of my soccer thighs.” Mercutio pats Benvolio’s shoulder and then grabs the switch and the charger. “Holler if you need anything,” he says to Rosaline, and then he’s disappearing out of the living room, and it’s just the two of them.

Benvolio’s already halfway back to dreamland, so Rosaline gently takes her hand and cards it through his curls, working out the knots and dirt and the clumps of blood.

There’s all messy and dirty and barely just hanging on, but she can’t lose him. She can’t lose anyone else.

“You’re not allowed to die on me, Montague.” She says, more of a whisper than actual words. He stirs gently beneath her hands, and she pauses, but that only causes him to grumble until she starts running her hands through his hair again.

As much as she originally disliked the idea of the Montague’s joining them at first, she’s begrudgingly become attached to them. And Benvolio was annoying for sure, but as things worked out, she had spent a lot of time with him in the past few weeks. Enough to know that most of the time the arrogance is a front, and underneath it all, he’s scared, worried about his family, worried about everyone’s safety.

And she’s seen him transfer that protectiveness to her sister and her cousin, even throwing himself in front of Livia once when her gun ran out of ammo, and the zombies were closer than any of them had thought.

“I can’t lose you.”

Maybe it’s how quiet the room is, or maybe it’s because she’s never actually told him that she’s started to care for him as well, that he’s part of her collection of people, 5 instead of 2, more people to protect, more people to count, more people to keep safe.

Out of nowhere she feels the sting of tears prickling behind her eyes, the thought of losing any of them, of losing _him_ , causing the emotions she’s been bottling up for weeks now to start to bubble out of her.

“I can’t be the one to put a bullet in your head, okay. And if you turn into a brain eating corpse, you know I would have to be the one to do it. And I can’t. I can’t do that.” Her hands are shaking now so she pulls them away from his hair, and ever so slowly his eyes open.

“No, don’t cry,” he says, reaching backwards so he can catch one of her tears on his thumb. “I hate it when you cry.”

“You’ve never seen me cry,” she says, instantly defensive. Because they are snark and sarcasm and childhood rivalries that rolled into adult indifference. Because she doesn’t cry in front of anyone, not even Livia. Because you can’t show weakness in the zombie apocalypse, because the monster can smell it.

Benvolio rolls his eyes, and she can tell he is weak because it is nowhere close to it’s typical level of annoyance.

“When Escalus broke up with you at the Verona Winter Ball. It might have been dark by the drinks, but I have very good eye sight.” He holds up a finger, and she realizes he’s going to list all the times he’s seen her cry. Which is slightly mortifying, but also in some way endearing. “When Romeo asked you out in front of the entire senior class. You hide them very well, but that back alley behind the gym was my treasured brooding spot.” He coughs, and she’s instantly tense, ready to call for someone but he reaches out and stops her, his hand colliding with her knee.

“I’m fine. Relax.” He shifts until he’s comfortable again, and takes a deep breath. “When we were five and I pulled on your braids because I was fascinated by the beads, and being five had no concept of being gentle or knowing that pulling on someone’s hair hurt.” His eyes finds hers upside down, and he’s covered in dirt and blood, and a few hours ago he was almost dead, but Rosaline stupidly finds him beautiful. “So I’ve seen you cry. And I hate it. Especially when it’s about me. You’re the strongest person I know, Rosaline. You’re like the main reason we’re still alive right now. So don’t you waste your tears on me.”

Before she even knows what she’s doing she’s folding herself over and pressing her lips against his. It’s a terrible position to kiss someone in.

It’s an even more terrible time to kiss someone.

The movies and shows and the books always make the whole zombie thing look like one great adventure, but it’s just lots of walking and never having enough food, and always, always being afraid.

So maybe that’s why she kisses him.

Because she’s crying and she’s terrified, and she almost lost him today, and he remembers them from when they were five and in kindergarten together, even though it was over two decades ago.

“Oh,” he says when she pulls back.

He’s so pale, but she can see the slightest bit of color in his cheeks, which she takes as a good sign.

“Just to clarify, was that because you think I’m going to die? Or because you have a thing for guys with bullet wounds and amazing memories about the history of your emotions.”

“Not entirely sure,” she says, because she’s not. She’s never thought about kissing a Montague before, especially not this particular one. It took a gunshot wound for her realize she doesn’t hate his company. And ocne she realized that, she realized that she likes him. As a person. As someone she wants to keep around, even if they get out of this mess alive and in one peace.

He starts to push himself to his elbows, but she shoves him back down before he can get to far.

“What are you doing?”

“Maneuvering myself so I can kiss you properly. If I am going to die, I’d like to die knowing what properly kissing you is like.” He glares up at her, the effect mostly lost in the fact that he looks exhausted.

“You’re not going to die.” Rosaline stuffs a pillow where her leg was and slides off the couch. “Promise me.”

His eyes follow her as she settles into the carpet, leveling herself close enough to him that he doesn’t have to move much.

“I promise you, Rosaline Capulet, that if you let me kiss you, I will not die, tonight.”

“Good.” She slides her fingers across his cheeks, and he moans quietly, before her lips even touch his.

And then, they are kissing properly.

She hasn’t properly brushed her teeth in a gross amount of time, and his lips taste a little like blood, and she has two guns strapped to her body, and there could be an entire hoard of zombies right outside the door, but for this moment, she’s just a girl, kissing a boy.

A boy who is slipping his hand around her jaw and tugging her closer and kissing her for real.

Like he’s going to die and this is the last thing he is ever going to do.

The weight of that makes her pull away. Because she can’t let him kiss her like that. Because he is not going to die on her.

Rosaline pulls away, and gently untangles them.

He’s quiet as she moves herself back onto the couch. Quiet as she runs her hands through his hair and hums the lullaby her mother used to sing to her. Quiet as the sun starts to peak through the makeshift walls they built in front of the windows.

So quiet, that for a moment, she stops hearing him breathe.

“Benvolio!” She grabs his shoulder and he slowly blinks his eyes open, a yawn over taking his body.

“I promised you,” he says, more a whisper than anything. “Now you just have to keep kissing me and keep me to my promise.”

Livia pokes her head into the living room before Rosaline can answer, and then before she knows it, there is six of them again.

Mercutio is fumbling with the radio to see if there's any news, and Juliet is furiously pounding a laptop, begging it to work, and Romeo peaks through a window.

Livia re-wraps Benvolio’s chest, and for a second there is peace.

Benvolio catches her eye and winks.

And then, all hell breaks lose.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Title from "Wasteland, Baby" by Hozier.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here!](http://fallinfor-youreyes.tumblr.com/)


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